Heiress
by nymphetor
Summary: The Dark Lord mandates all of his followers to conceive heirs. Unfortunately, Severus is not exempt, and now he faces the frightening prospect of raising his own eerily intelligent heiress.


Description: The Dark Lord mandates all of his followers to conceive heirs. Unfortunately, Severus is not exempt, and now he faces the frightening prospect of raising his own eerily intelligent heiress.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Chapter 1: _The Heiress_

The Dark Lord had demanded it.

Could they really expect him to rule a _declining_ magical society, without ordering his followers to make more heirs to prominent lines?

Blood purity had always been the agenda; but good breeding took time, and not _all_ members of magical Britain had the luxury of an illustrious bloodline. So Severus' half-blooded status was simply overlooked (as were other similarly equipped non-Purebloods) due to some innate skill, or shrewd intelligence, but perhaps mostly if there existed a strong magical aptitude.

Only Severus hardly knew Selladora Selwyn. _She_ was a Pureblood witch, an unfortunate third child, below another sister, and an eldest brother. Her father Cadarn, the Head of Selwyn, likewise had taken an oath to the Dark Lord, resulting in the slightly awkward dynamic where all those strictly involved had, in reality, very little say in regards to the union.

Selwyn Hall was a towering masterpiece of a castle nestled in the foggiest of Welsh moors. The grounds were springy with moss, with a faint mossy scent lingering pleasantly in the entrance chamber of the estate. It was already a late evening, the few lit candles doing little to improve the enigmatic atmosphere, and long after this specific occasion Severus would recall with surprising specificity how uniquely bundled his nerves coiled, deep in his stomach.

For Selladora was lovely in some ethereally sweet, untouchable way; it seemed almost rotten for Severus to put his potion-stained, unmanicured fingers on her delicate, soft and supple body. She was young - and to Severus' dismay she _looked_ even younger - but the way her long auburn hair fell in dainty ringlets, past a pale, elegant neck and shoulders, made her entirely far too enticing. After all, Severus had never claimed to be a good man. But before seeing Selladora, he hadn't known he was particularly _greedy_ , either.

A very tiny part of Severus' mind cursed the Dark Lord for his current predicament. No doubt, his lord had given him _this_ woman - this girl - because of her vague resemblance to another. She was too rich for him. He didn't deserve her. But her moss green eyes were very close to the loveliest shade of green Severus had ever seen in a face.

They were married in the ballroom of Selwyn Hall. Their Lord had not deigned to come, but instead sent a high ranking Death Eater with a short message of congratulations to the new couple. Severus had resisted the urge to awkwardly fidget when it was time for him to lead the bride to their newly gifted wing of the castle, to consummate their marriage.

Nevertheless, he lifted her off the threshold, his anxiety at her quietness dissipating somewhat at her tight grasp on his neck. Perhaps her silence was merely due to nerves, and not a horrid repugnance of the man she was just forced to wed. Yet Severus moved cautiously, slowly removing the parted veil off the crown of her head, letting her hair tumble in a graceful heap, as if it had been orchestrated that way. She peered up at him, impossibly round, innocent eyes blinking owlishly in the dim candlelight of their room, and unconsciously bitting on her full, bottom lip.

Severus could hardly keep himself from shaking as he undid her simple white gown.

"Are you alright? Have I done anything to upset you?" she asked quietly, alarmed, with concern ebbing over her entirely too lovely features. Her face looked so soft; he hated seeing the creases of worry that developed because of him. Smoothing them out with deft fingers so light they tickled, he reassured her with the barest of whispers in her ear, daring his tongue to reach out and taste. She shivered. Roaming hands grew more confident, hot gasps grew sharper and labored, and soon the night's earlier unease seemed quite distant in the throes of pleasure.

It was the last _decent_ night Severus would have for a long, long time.

She conceived; of course she had, since he had brewed a fertility potion that she obediently drank earlier. The Dark Lord had _suggested_ it. But it was also the Dark Lord who had immediately whisked Severus away from his new, pregnant bride, for increasingly dangerous missions and raids. Severus soon felt a weariness growing deep in his bones.

"I hope you aren't disillusioning yourself that your _duty_ has cut short your honeymoon, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked archly in his ear one night at a gathering. Perhaps it was the telltale slump of his shoulders, or the more exhausted and less deferential posture that had planted the seed of suspicion in his Lord. He tried working his still shaky Occlumency barriers before answering.

"Of course not, my Lord. I live to serve you."

He didn't get a response.

A series of bloody, gruesome days quickly turned into weeks and months. The war was escalating to a fever pitch, and it seemed everything happened so soon and all at once: Severus was the unfortunate Death Eater assigned to watch Hogsmeade that fateful evening of the Prophecy. He knew, belatedly, of Lily's child, one who must be similar in age to his own, but he couldn't be sure, exactly. He had been on continuous, tireless missions that blurred into one great monstrous nightmare of a repeating battle in the night, and hadn't gotten a chance to check in with Selwyn Hall.

Around this time he had heard rumors that the elder Selwyn sister had defected to the other side, but the brother had killed her before she could fully execute her betrayal. Severus was almost numb as to what that might mean for Selladora, and her child. _Their_ child, he forcibly reminded himself.

At this rate, he was already a worse father than his own had been.

Halloween arrived, the Dark Lord was, unbelievably, vanquished, just as the Prophecy hinted. But Severus had not survived those long months of war by being a fool; his Dark Mark still appeared as black as the day he had received it, and it was only his quick thinking that could possibly preserve himself and his remote, but not forgotten, wife and child.

The ministry wasted no time in rounding up Death Eaters like cattle off to Azkaban. But Severus already had the foresight to go to Dumbledore long before.

It was an agonizing time of negotiating, judicial court clearings, and paperwork before Severus was able to return to Selwyn Hall. The surrounding ferns had overgrown. Severus noted that it was far too large and austere a place for only two residents, for, in the intervening months of war, Cadarn Selwyn had died from the stress of the passing of not only his sickly wife, but of one of his children murdering the other. Indeed, when Severus entered and saw the ghostly image of his now frail-looking wife standing atop the grandiose staircase, he needed to remind himself that _she_ had not also died.

Those thoughts echoed in intrusive whispers the more time he spent with her. Selladora was still beautiful, but she had lost much weight, and the former youthful plumpness of her face, so disarmingly exquisite, had left some time ago. Her mossy eyes had sunken in, not so sparkling as they once were, yet still she attempted to smile at Severus, and he wanted to believe that there was a shard somewhere in there that was truly sincere.

He never found out.

The same disease that took her mother took her, shortly after the child's second birthday. He was unexpectedly titled the de-facto of Head of Selwyn - at least until Cecily came of age.

In the meantime they would both go to Hogwarts.

Perhaps the curious juxtaposition of a known former Death Eater nimbly carrying a snuggling baby through the gates of Hogwarts was enough to give the other professors pause. They were respectfully quiet and distant to the man dressed in black, assuming his mourning of his late wife. He appeared simultaneously so perplexed and determined about the infant, with little apparent regard to what others thought of himself, that he was quietly welcomed into the staff with more ease than anyone anticipated, including Headmaster Dumbledore.

After two weeks he hired a nanny, then fired her a week later. This pattern continued throughout the blessed emptiness of summer, until Severus invented a few potions that would speed up the aging of Cecily's brain (but not her body), as well as calming draughts specially formulated for infants, among other potions beneficial to both the child and Severus' sanity.

Or so he thought.

When Madame Pomfrey discovered what Severus had administered it was already too late. The child, two years old physically but about four and a half mentally, was speaking with alarming vocabulary and politeness. Pomfrey said it was an abomination, and shouted whoever thought that Snape was fit to father a child.

"The Dark Lord, actually." came the testy reply. Pomfrey gasped. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled madly.

"What does abomination mean?" asked a small voice. Cecily's dark mossy eyes looked about the nearby faces imploringly. It was disconcerting, seeing that level of awareness in an infant's eyes. Severus wondered if raising this - this _thing_ disguised as a baby was penance for his sinful ways. Pomfrey, reddening, patted the girl with deliberate gentleness, and said it was nothing to worry about.

When Cecily asked McGonagall a fully formed question of what colored fur her cat Animagus was, the elder witch screamed.

Thus began Cecily Selwyn's residency at Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N: I don't know what this is! I read a Harry-is-Snape's-son story and now I can't get the idea of Severus having a child out of my head.


End file.
